A Man having bought a Blackamoor, was so simple as to think that the
colour of his skin was only dirt which he had contracted for want of
due care under his former master. This fault he fancied might easily
be removed by washing, so he ordered the poor Black to be put into a
tub, and was at a considerable charge in providing ashes, soap, and
scrubbing brushes for the operation. To work they went, rubbing and
scouring his skin all over, but to no manner of purpose: for when they
had repeated their washings several times, and were grown quite weary,
all they got by it was, that the Blackamoor caught cold and died.